


Questions

by waterbird13



Series: Tumblr Fics [214]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Counseling, Gen, John Winchester skeptical, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Scars, Stanford Era, discussion of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 19:16:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8114260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterbird13/pseuds/waterbird13
Summary: Sam's doing therapy mostly to appease Jess. It's not awful, though.One day his shirt drags up, and his counselor sees his scars.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is another piece from Tumblr.
> 
> Warnings for prior abuse (ie in making child soldiers), stanford era.

 The office is hot, today. Mark apologized for it, said the AC went out sometime early in the morning, and they’re just hoping campus maintenance can get it back on in the next few hours.

Sam just shrugs and says it’s fine. It’s not like he hasn’t stayed in worse places. Which immediately leads Mark into questioning him about that, about the places he lived as a child, about how he feels regarding those.

This is their fourth session. Jess convinced Sam to give it a try, and he doesn’t hesitate to say he’d do anything for her. Still, he thought he’d be one and done, tell her he went and that would be the end of it.

Somehow, a month later, he’s still coming in. 

So, Mark talks to him about growing up for a while, about how Sam didn’t mind the motels and cheap rentals so much, not even the bad water or the shitty heating or the bugs that sometimes showed up. He would have dealt with it all if they just stayed anywhere for any length of time.

It’s ridiculously hot in there. He strips off his sweat-shirt midsentence, tossing it onto the floor next to his chair, then pulling his t-shirt back down.

Mark is staring, and Sam shifts uncomfortably. “What?” he asks.

“Sam,” Mark begins, something heavy sounding in his voice. “I’m going to ask you a question, and you don’t have to answer, but I would appreciate it if you did. Okay?”

Nonplussed, Sam nods.

“Did your father give you those scars?” Mark asks.

Sam starts. The scars–of course. His shirt dragged up. He has a long one on his stomach, from going through a glass window once. A ghost had thrown him. He has another on his hip, just peaking out over his pants, long and knotted. Then there are a few smaller ones on his arms, now revealed that the sweatshirt is one the floor.

He swallows, and shakes his head. “No,” he says. “No, he wouldn’t. He’s not like–” He trails off.

“You’ve told me that your father was an alcoholic,” Mark continues. “And that he’s hit you.”

“Well, yeah,” Sam says. “But he’d just…slap us around. Shake us. If we got outta line. It would bruise. It wouldn’t scar. He wasn’t like _that_.”

Mark raises an eyebrow, and Sam shifts. John _wasn’t_  like that, although Mark has allowed Sam the space to confirm all those nagging feelings he’d had for years; he was more than bad enough. But he didn’t stab Sam or anything.

“It was the training,” Sam says. “I told you. He raised us like soldiers. Sometimes soldiers get hurt.”

“Children aren’t soldiers,” Mark reminds him.

Sam rolls his eyes. “I know that,” he says. “They shouldn’t be. But sometimes they are, you know? I mean, I was lucky. I wasn’t a _real_  child soldier. That’s pretty fucking horrific. And it happens all the time.”

“Are you trying to change the subject, Sam?” Mark asks in a perfectly even voice.

Sam lets out a breath. He wasn’t necessarily, although it had been working. “No,” he says. “Just…it wasn’t Dad. We just got hurt, sometimes.”

“Can you agree with me that, if a man puts his underaged children deliberately in a situation where he knows there is a high risk of injury, then he is responsible for those injuries?” Mark asks.

Sam tilts his head, thinks about it for a minute. It makes sense. “Yeah,” he concedes. “Just…you thought he stabbed me or something. He didn’t.”

Mark nods, accepting that. “You don’t need to be with anyone who considers your pain something insignificant,” he says. “Anyone who dismisses it or thinks it necessary isn’t worthy of your time.” he looks at the clock on the wall. “And that’s our hour. A good enough place to stop for today. Make sure to book your next appointment on the way out,” he instructs, shaking Sam’s hand, as always, when they both stand.

Sam picks up his sweatshirt and goes to find the office manager to set up next week’s appointment, mind reeling with today’s.

He should probably thank Jess, for talking him into this. Because Mark is right. His scars aren’t some tragic abuse backstory like some people think, but they’re not any less the product of abuse, really. John fucked him up.

He’s just glad he’s getting the chance to re-build now.


End file.
